


Winter’s Dearest

by thejourneymaninn



Series: Change of season [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, Lyriumchristmas, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Presents, Unresolved Emotional Tension, pre-fenders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Anders is looking for a gift to give to Fenris on a special day. He has no intention of telling him just how special it is, however. 
A sequel to ‘Winter’s Quiet’, but can absolutely be read separately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for the Lyriumchristmas campaign. Prompt: ‘Buying presents’

Winter’s quiet, the day to remember family and friends, had passed. Which meant Winter’s Dearest was coming up fast. The day when you were supposed to give a gift to the “special one”, the one you wanted to be by your side during the harsh months of winter. A day Anders never had reason to celebrate. ‘Special one’ didn't necessarily mean lover; for some, the person they chose to honour was a family member, their closest ally, a mentor, or someone they considered a source of support and inspiration. Anders had done the same the last time he had actually bothered with the occasion. Pounce had loved the cat treats. Still, the general consensus was that it did, indeed, mean ‘lover’.

Not that it mattered either way. They had taken Pounce from him, just like everyone else he had ever cared about, and while Hawke had been his closest ally for years, _her_ closest ally, and so much more, had always been Merrill. There was no rule that the gift had to be reciprocated, but intruding on their togetherness would only serve as a reminder that he wasn’t part of it. That there was no one in the world who, if asked for that one person that was just a little bit dearer to them than everyone else, would pick him. And that _he_ had no one who was truly close to his heart, no one he would choose, at all. He hadn’t had anyone like that for years, not since…Karl.

Except that this year, it _felt_ like he did. It wasn’t anything more than a foolish notion, of course, and there was no way the feeling was mutual…But he would get him a gift anyway. He didn't have to make a fuss about it; he could honour the elf in a quiet way, one that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. Fenris wasn't likely to be acquainted with the tradition, so he wouldn't know how much it meant. Only Anders would.

He decided to go searching for something to give to the elf on the Hightown market. Lowtown would have been a more fitting choice for his price range, but he wasn’t likely to find something of a befitting quality there. Also, he wanted to minimize the risk of running into Isabela. Merrill or Hawke, he could handle, but Isabela would see right through him. Good thing she never joined them for Diamondback…

Diamondback. How many months had it been since that first night? Anders had been surprised Fenris had invited him at all, even more surprised that he had left the invitation standing despite the way they had been at each other’s throats during the first game. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he kept attending, and somehow, the more time they spent together outside of their jobs for Hawke, just the two of them, Varric, and Donnic, the less acidic their bickering became. Until one day, it was almost friendly. And then _actually_ friendly. Well, at least sometimes. Just like sometimes, when he had eaten too much of the food Fenris always made sure to provide, and had by some miracle managed to win a few rounds, he would linger after the others had left, too content and lazy to move. Fenris never urged him to leave.

He was even less sure how exactly they had ended up entangled in the same chair one night, couldn’t have said whose hand had strayed, who had leaned in first. What he did remember with crystal clarity, however, was Fenris’ hoarse, mumbled, “This is a bad idea.”

And his own reply, with more teasing than intent, still a little dizzy from what had been an undeniably excellent kiss, “Yes. But you know me...I am rather fond of bad ideas.”

But most of all, how Fenris’ brief hesitation had made way for a smirk, just before he brought their lips back together. “As it would seem, so am I.”

There had been few words after that.

It hadn’t been like Anders had thought it would be. He would have expected Fenris to be feral, for all their pent-up anger to take on the form of rough fucking. As it turned out, the elf was nothing like that. Yes, he had been _hungry_ , clearly as starved of physical contact, as desperate for any kind of release, as Anders himself, yet he had given as much as he had taken. For all his ravenousness, he had made sure to savour...and to pause whenever he sensed the slightest hesitation on his part. There was gentleness in the elf, a care in his eyes and touch that was as intent on Anders’ pleasure as on his own. And that refused to hurt. It wasn’t love, of course it wasn’t, but Anders felt…seen. And accepted. Even though it was a mere physical thing, it didn’t leave him with the hollowness he had felt after such encounters in his younger days. Fenris hadn’t made him feel used, or worthless. In all the times that followed, he never did.

Fenris wasn’t his winter's dearest, the rock to cling to, the one to remain at his side, and neither would he want to be. But sometimes, he made Anders forget that, made him feel free. And safe. He had a way of wrapping his arms around him like he never wanted to let go and for these brief moments, Anders allowed himself to believe the elf cared. He wasn’t sure Fenris knew he was giving him that, or if he was giving him anything even remotely as meaningful in return. Which was why his gift had to be perfect, he resolved, turning his attention back to the goods around him. He could at least give him that.

There was no shortage of things to choose from, but somehow, that only made it harder. Most likely because he had no idea what Fenris might like to begin with. Flowers, jewellery, scented oils and racy underwear were all out of the question (which was a pity considering how amazing the elf would look in the latter) as they would definitely arouse suspicion - Fenris might not be familiar with the day’s traditions, but he was no fool. Anders sighed. Time to check the stalls that weren’t so clearly aimed at lovers.

Half an hour later, Anders’ frustration had by no means lessened. He didn’t want to get Fenris anything too practical either. Simple books to help improve his reading, sword-polishing oil (no, he wasn’t giggling at that, absolutely not), or weapons were on the safe side, but…he did want the gift to mean at least _something._

It was getting dark by the time he finally stumbled upon something that brought a smile to his face. A sweater, but not just any sweater, the fluffiest sweater he had ever touched. As soft as Pounce’s fur, it looked warm and comfy – and so big Fenris would drown in it. A sweater and a blanket, a little home he could wrap around his body. He thought of how vulnerable the elf looked every time he shed his armour, how he always put it back on almost immediately after they were finished. And how he, on the rare occasions when they…cuddled for a bit before Anders left, still got up, put it on and then crawled back into bed with him. Even in his own home, he seemed to feel he needed its protection. To give him a warm and comfortable, fluffy shield to wear…Anders liked the idea, very much. It meant something, but it wasn’t overly personal. The stall also offered matching gloves and socks of the same soft grey, and since Kirkwall was probably a lot colder than Fenris was used to, at least at this time of year, Anders got him those as well. No trousers, though. He was just as man, after all, and with the way Fenris’ leggings hugged several parts of his…anatomy, really, who could blame him.

By some stroke of luck, Winter’s Dearest happened to coincide with their weekly game of Diamondback. As it had become customary for him, he stayed after the others had left. When he gave Fenris his present, he kept his voice as casual as he could manage.

“Hey, I saw something that I thought you might like the other day.” He retrieved the clothes from his satchel. “I know you’re kind of glued to your armour, but I thought…if you ever wanted to wear something that didn’t remind you of blood and death... You’re free now. You have a life beyond that. With these you’d still have something to cover yourself with. And I think they’d look really good on you.”

Fenris seemed a bit startled, but there was the hint of a smile on his face when he mumbled, “Thank you.” Before he could say more, Anders cut him off with a kiss, initializing their other weekly ritual.

 

 

The clothes were soft, like nothing Fenris had ever worn before. As soon as the mage had left, he had changed into them, worn them around the house, relishing the way they wrapped his body in a gentle breeze of a hug, so different from the clingy protection of his usual garments. And they were warm. It would certainly feel wonderful to have his arms covered against the icy wind that had taken residence in Kirkwall lately…

Perhaps the mage was right. It was one thing to wear his armour when he was on a job with Hawke – or, come to think of it, on any outing with Hawke, given that just last week, she had managed to get attacked by a cheese vendor – but there wasn’t really any need for it during card nights, or when visiting his friends. Free men didn’t wear steel every waking second. They didn’t have to. It was as the mage had said: His life should be more than fighting now. He had friends. He had made a home for himself.

 

 

They were only a small round at Wicked Grace this week. Hawke had taken Merrill and Sebastian – and the mage, as well - to the Wounded Coast, leaving only him, Isabela, Varric and Aveline to gather around the table. Fenris didn’t mind; he preferred a small audience for his first appearance in clothes that bore no signs of what he had been made for. Clothes of life, not battle. Clothes Anders had given him. Yet as much as he loved them, it still felt strange to walk through the streets like this…and he knew how much his friends loved to tease. Too bad Hawke hadn’t taken the pirate with her instead. The witch might babble and be overly enthusiastic, but at least she wouldn’t have tormented him. Sebastian would most likely have limited himself to a brief, approving comment, and while the mage loved to mock, he would hardly have done so when it came to his own gift. Perhaps, seeing Fenris actually wearing the sweater would have even brought one of those rare, genuine smiles on his face…

Isabela, however, knew neither mercy nor boundaries, so her good-natured, “Oh nice, where did you get this?” came as a surprise.

“Anders gave it to me.”

Judging by Isabela’s grin, that admission had been a mistake. So much for ‘surprise’.

“He did, did he? Tell me…when exactly was that?”

“Two days ago,” Fenris replied, confused as to why she would care about such petty details.

His confusion certainly didn’t lessen when both Varric and Isabela started to whistle…And didn’t look like they were planning on stopping any time soon.

Since her frown seemed the preferable reaction, he turned to Aveline. “What is this about?”

Instead of an answer, he got another question. “Are you sure it was two days ago?”

“Yes. On the day we played Diamondback. Why?” He had expected teasing, but this fuss made no sense, not even for people who loved to insert themselves into the affairs of others as much as his friends did.

“At Diamondback? And Donnic didn’t tell me? Looks like I’m going to have to have a few words with that man. And with _you_ , Varric!”

“Ah-ah, I didn’t know about this. And neither did your husband, Maker have mercy on him. Blondie didn’t give this to him while we were there,” the dwarf raised both his hands in front of his chest, shaking his head.

“Oooh, so you’re saying that you two left…late at night…and Anders stayed… _alone_ …to keep Fenris…company?” Isabela was downright leering now.

“Come to think of it, he does that quite often. Almost every week, if I’m not mistaken.”

It was _exactly_ every week and seeing the smirk Varric wasn’t trying all that hard to keep hidden, Fenris had no doubt he was perfectly aware of that detail.

He kept his voice even. “The mage lives in a sewer. Are you surprised he is in no hurry to get home?”

“And you give him shelter, eh?” Isabela snickered. “Give him the opportunity to be inside a…warm place?”

Fenris was a seasoned warrior. He knew a hopeless fight when he saw it and therefore turned his attention back to Aveline. “Why would your husband care that the mage gave me clothes?”

“It’s not that he did, Fenris, but _when_ he did. On Winter’s Dearest.”

“I have never heard of that. Is it like Winter’s Quiet?”

“It’s a bit like it, yes, but instead of making sure your family and friends are prepared for winter, you’re supposed to…prepare your soul.” Aveline sighed. “Look, it’s a tradition. There’s gift giving too, but only to _one_ person...someone who is special to you. The one you want to stay at your side…”

“Oh just get to the point. A _lover_.”

“Not specifically.” Aveline glared at Isabela. “Although I have to admit, it is mostly interpreted as a day for lovers.”

“Humans take these things very seriously, Elf.” Varric nodded gravely. “If Blondie gave you a gift on this day….Well, let’s just say you might have gotten yourself your own personal mage.”

“We don’t know that,” Aveline insisted. “The tradition just states it has to be someone special. It could just mean he looks up to you, or…”

“Oh, come on, big girl, not even you can be _that_ boring.” Turning back to him, Isabela all but sang, “It means he li-i-i-ikes you….Although if you decide to give in to that delicious tension, I’m pretty sure there’s going to be a lot of…looking up…”

The following comments were no less lewd (rather more so, actually), and Fenris felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment. Yet there was also another warmth, floating through every single part of his body…

_‘Special’_


End file.
